An Unexpected Deduction
by river1983
Summary: John is unexpectedly pregnant, and doesn't know how Sherlock will react. Read about their journey through this unexpected, rare pregnancy. (I know this summary sucks the story is better I promise) Johnlock, Mpreg, not omegaverse (there's a different explanation)
1. Chapter 1

**An Unexpected Deduction**

 **Author's Note: I debated a lot on whether to post this story or not, so I hope it's okay. I've written an mpreg before, but I think this one is better than the other one. As always, constructive criticism is welcome.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Sherlock BBC.**

 **Chapter 1**

John was scrolling through his blog as Sherlock strolled into the room.

"Morning, love." John says as Sherlock leaned down to peck him on the lips. "Morning, John."

John fiddled with the silver ring on his finger as he stared at the screen. He traced his engraving, _Starving_. It made more sense if you put Sherlock's golden ring next to it, symbolising the first day they met. _Dinner? Starving._

Sherlock, surprisingly, had picked them out for their wedding bands. For someone who supposedly despises sentiment, he sure has a lot of it.

"Lestrade says there's been a murder, did you want to go and do what you do best?" John asks him, setting his computer down.

Sherlock grinned. "Obviously."

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bcc**

As they arrived to the crime scene, Sherlock got to work immediately. John, however, upon seeing the dead body, almost threw up right then and there. He covered his mouth to prevent it before regaining his composure. He's seen plenty of dead bodies, so why did this one bother him? He shook off his worries and knelt next to the dead body to help.

"Her name is Athena Wilson. We scanned her cards and saw that she had a brother, and her parents have passed away." Lestrade says as he stood next to the body.

"Dead for approximately a 18 hours, no sign of alcohol. 2 gunshot wounds, both in the back. The entrance wounds are from behind her. Killer had to be close to her, as the hole is large and the bullet went all the way through, 1 or 2 meters away, maybe?" John deduced as he examined the body.

"Yes, John. By the look of her clothes and her smell, a nurse or doctor, working in the ER most likely. Smoked, for there are small burns on her coat from the ends of cigarettes. Approximately 25, maybe 26 years of age. There are welts on her neck, signs of possibly being choked." Sherlock whirled around, pointing to her wrists.

"Handcuffed, you can see the lines made in her skin. Taken hostage, perhaps? She was probably on her way home from her shift. Her ID is not in her pocket, which gives us a lot of information."

"Someone needed her ID to get into the hospital and steal some drugs. Why else would the killer need the ID? You don't need an ID to visit someone. Stealing drugs, statistically, is the most logical assumption. The balance of probability, though a bit far-fetched. Must've been desperate, yes, desperate enough to kill. Couldn't have left it at the hospital, because you need to check out before leaving your shift, and all belongings are in a secured space, where you need an ID to get in."

He pauses after that. "So what?" asks Lestrade.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "It was the brother, obviously. Heavy smoker, past arrests for dealing drugs, and has been sent to the hospital multiple times for drug overdose according to your sources. Enough to be an extreme addict, willing to do anything to get his hands on some morphine. Grabbed her neck to pin her down, handcuffed her so she couldn't escape, stole her ID. Realized that she had been knocked out, and knew he couldn't leave her there, as when she woke up she would tell the police. Shot her twice. Once to kill her, twice to make sure she was dead. The bullet wounds are a decent distance apart, not calculated, which is a sign of unsteady hands. Drug addicts tend to have tremors. Went to the hospital and stole drugs. It was reported at the hospital she worked at that several amounts of morphine was stolen around the same time she died."

"Bloody brilliant." John mutters under his breath, still amazed at Sherlock's deduction skills.

"Alright, we'll bring the brother in for questioning." Lestrade says to us, motioning his men to take the body. "Thank you again, Sherlock."

Sherlock just shrugs and raises his eyebrow at me. I follow him to the cab he had held and we make our way back home to Baker Street.

 **bbc/bcc/bbc/bbc**

Sherlock was locked into his Mind Palace as John typed up the case. As he described the dead woman, he felt the urge to throw up. Moving his laptop to the side, he walked fairly quickly to the bathroom before throwing up into the toilet.

Sherlock walked in as John retched, slightly confused and worried. "John? John are you alright?" He asks as John lifted himself from the ground to brush his teeth. "I think I've came down with something, just a stomach flu I think."

"Want some tea?"

"That'd be lovely."

Sherlock kisses John's temple and moves to the kitchen to get the kettle boiled. John smiled as he followed him as far as the living area before sitting back down to finish typing.

"Tea's done!" Sherlock proclaims loudly as he sets it in front of John. "Thanks, love." John replied.

He takes the tea and sips it, letting it soothe his upset stomach.

Sherlock watched the smaller man as he sipped his tea, using his deduction stare as he analyzed his husband.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" John asks when he notices.

"Like what?"

"You've got that stare again."

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about. The bloody deduction stare," says John. "Why are you analyzing me?"

Sherlock looks up at the ex-soldier's blueish-greenish eyes. "Just thinking."

John sighs. "I'm heading to bed, make sure you get some sleep too."

Sherlock just nods in response as he drifted into his Mind Palace to think.

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

It's been 2 months and John seemed to get anything but better. He's been nauseous at crime scenes, slow when chasing a criminal, and throwing up his meals often. Sherlock was a bit oblivious, especially during crimes that rank a 7 or 8.

John had his suspicions to what was going on with him. He was a doctor, after all. It couldn't be food poisoning, stomach flu, or ink poisoning, so he only had one explanation. He thought back to his and Sherlock's night of passion when they were coming home from the pub after celebrating the capture of an important criminal with Lestrade, severely intoxicated.

"Oh, christ." John whispered to himself.

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

John sat in his office at work as he contemplated what had been said to him, what had been confirmed.

 _Congratulations, Dr. Watson. You're pregnant._

He'd never thought he'd hear those words in his life. He didn't even know he had the carrier gene, a very sparse abnormality in the male reproductive system. It was common a long time ago, but over time only a few men had been born with it. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the next patient come in.

"Oh! Sorry, I was, eh, lost in thought. Shall we get on with it then?"

His day went on like this, patient after patient, diagnosis after diagnosis, and in between he would think about the spark of life growing within him.

He was thinking about it now as he took a cab back to 221b. How would Sherlock feel about this? They hadn't really discussed it, and Sherlock wasn't exactly the fatherly type. He didn't necessarily hate children, but didn't like them either. John sighed. There was no way he would abort it, he couldn't bring himself to do so. He wanted to keep it, but it was Sherlock's decision also.

He arrived at his door, paying the cabbie and walking inside. Sherlock was in the kitchen doing another experiment of his with eyeballs, causing John to feel nauseous.

"Hey John-" Sherlock starts.

"Hold that thought!" John says as he takes off his coat and practically runs to the bathroom. Sherlock, worried, put his eyeballs down and went to the bathroom. "You okay, John?"

John nods. "Fine, I'm fine."

John rinses his mouth out. "I'm gonna freshen up, you can finish...whatever it is you're doing."

"Testing how much water resides in the eye after death."

"Yeah, that."

Sherlock smiles and winks in John's direction as he leaves the room. John smiles to himself as he closes the door.

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

It was now a month after John had found out he was pregnant. He'd yet to tell Sherlock, still uncertain of what he might say. A tiny bump was forming in John's midsection, and he'd been careful to hide it. It wasn't very noticeable anyway, as he wasn't that far along. He didn't want to go to an ultrasound without Sherlock, so he would have to tell him soon.

They were were at crime scene, and John was to busy trying not to look sick than focusing on the body.

"It's an, uh, overdose on, um, some anti-depressant pills. I smell alcohol, but he doesn't appear to have, um, been completely intoxicated. Maybe a pint or two. Been dead, uh, 5 hours?" John stutters.

Sherlock eyes him. "15 hours."

John shakes his head slightly. "Right, sorry. Um, I'm gonna be over there, I need some air. I'm not much help at the moment. Can't...think straight."

"Okay, love. You sure you're alright?" Sherlock asks, a bit worried. John seemed very distracted.

"Yeah, yeah. Just, need air." John stammers. As he left the room, he mentally kicked himself for doing the opposite of what he was trying to do.

Lestrade makes his way over to Sherlock. "Is he okay? Seems...distant."

Sherlock shrugs, turning to Lestrade. "I don't know."

"By the way, it wasn't suicide. His fiancee did it."

"How did you-"

"Hands."

Lestrade shakes his head, amused as Sherlock makes his way towards John.

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

"John?" Sherlock asks in the taxi they took home.

"Hmm?"

"You seemed distracted today. Are you sure you're okay?"

John shakes his head. "Nothing. I'll-I'll tell you later."

Sherlock nods, and the rest of the ride is in silence.

Sherlock pays the cabbie and escorts John inside their flat. John takes off his coat and sits in his chair as Sherlock went to finish his recent fingernail experiment, causing John to silently gag.

"So, uh, Sherlock?" asks John, willing his stomach to settle and standing to face the taller man.

"Hmm?" Sherlock responds, turning away from his work to look at John.

"How would you feel if...well I mean, um…." John was nervous. He had no idea what Sherlock would say.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "Go on, John."

"Okay, well. I don't know how you're going to take this, but I'm-"

"Pregnant?" Sherlock finishes for him.

Now it was John who raises an eyebrow. "How the bloody hell did you-"

Sherlock chuckles as he sets his experiment down. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice the signs? Throwing up, tiredness, nausea. You've hidden your prenatal vitamins underneath our bed-which isn't a good hiding spot by the way-and I can see the bump, John. You can't hide much from me, you know that. I deduced it fairly quickly, possibly before you even knew."

John was surprised, placing a hand on his slightly swollen stomach. "Well?"

Sherlock came up to the shorter man, and pressed his lips to John's. John, caught off guard, stumbled a bit before kissing the consulting detective back. Sherlock finally broke away, grinning. "What do you think?"

John hugged the taller man tightly, careful not to squish his bump.

"I didn't know you were a carrier."

John chuckled. "Me neither, quite frankly."

Sherlock smiles a bit before it faded.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" asks Sherlock.

"I thought...well, I thought you wouldn't want me to keep it." John replied sheepishly. Sherlock smiled. "Of course I'd want you to keep it. I know how fond you are of kids. I may not be...the most affectionate towards children, but this is definitely an exception."

John beamed, kissing Sherlock passionately. As he broke away, John laid his head on the taller man's chest. "It's been 3 months, in case you were wondering. Or did you already know?"

Sherlock smiled that mischievous smile John had fell in love with. "I knew."

"Ultrasound next week."

Sherlock nods.

He lets go of John, clearing the kitchen of his experiment, then puts on his trench coat and hands John his. With a grin, he asks, "Dinner?"

John smiles. "Starving."


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Sherlock BBC.**

 **Chapter 2**

John and Sherlock were at an ultrasound appointment. John was around 4 months pregnant now, and his stomach was now more prominent against his jumpers. John laid down on the chair with his jumper rolled up, so his bump was more visible. Sherlock sat next to him in a different chair as the doctor spread the blue gel on John's stomach.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand as the doctor moved the wand around, finally settling on the black and white blob, which vaguely resembled a child. "There is your baby." The doctor says smiling. John stared in awe at the screen, unable to remove his eyes. That was _his_. Sherlock eyes were locked on the screen too. He tightened his grip on John's hand. John shot him a reassuring smile.

"Do you want to know the gender?" the doctor asked.

The couple looked at each other. "Yes." answered Sherlock.

"Congratulations, it's a girl."

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

Sherlock and John walked hand in hand to Angelo's, where they would meet up with their friends and tell them the news. Mycroft knew already, as he spied on them still. John started rambling about all the things he and Sherlock would do with their little girl until he noticed Sherlock's blank expression.

"Sherlock?" John wondered out loud.

Sherlock snapped out of his trance and looked at John. "What?"

"Are you...excited?" John asks, a bit worried.

"Of course, I'm just…" Sherlock struggled to admit his feelings out loud. "Terrified."

John laughs a bit. 'Terrified' isn't a usual character trait of Sherlock. "Of what?"

"Everything about this! There's so much that could go wrong, John. if you got hurt...if our...child...got hurt…"

John stopped him in the middle of the sidewalk. One look into his eyes showed how much Sherlock actually cared. Even John had never seen this side of him. "It's going to be fine, okay? Nothing will happen."

Sherlock nods, hooking his arm around John's waist. "Okay."

"Now come on," John says impatiently as he drags Sherlock to the front door of Angelo's. "I'm starving."

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

John and Sherlock were leaving Angelo's, behind their group of friends. They were supportive, which John and Sherlock were grateful for. They waved goodbye to their friends as they walked-they needed to stop at Tesco's for groceries, and frankly, John was tired of being left behind by Sherlock whenever they got a cab.

About halfway there, Sherlock noticed a hooded figure out of the corner of his eye, who seemed to be following him and John on their walk to Tesco's. Sherlock looked away, deleting his worries out of his head.

"You okay, Sherlock?" John asks, as he noticed Sherlock's behavior.

"Fine, just tired. Why do we have to go to Tesco's, again?"

John rolled his eyes. "You used all our milk on your experiments again. And I want pickles."

Sherlock smiled. Suddenly, the hooded figure came up behind the couple, stabbing Sherlock with tranquilizer dart and grabbing John.

"Sherlock!" John screamed, trying to fight his attacker off as Sherlock stumbled.

"John…" Sherlock slurred as he fell to the ground. The hooded figure kneed John in the stomach once, very hard, before running away.

"John!" Sherlock yelled as John fell over, clutching his abdomen. He saw the faint ambulance lights in the distance, for once grateful for Mycroft's spying.

"John…" Sherlock muttered before the tranquilizer finally took effect.

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

Sherlock woke up in a hospital bed, attached to a few wires to monitor his heart rate. It took his brain a few seconds to register what happened.

 _John._

He immediately stripped himself of the wires, stumbling out of his hospital room. A doctor-presumably his-noticed and tried to escort Sherlock back to his room.

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"Sir, I need you to go back-"

"Where. Is. John?" Sherlock asked again.

The doctor sighed, pointing to the room.

With no further comments, Sherlock dashed down the hall, entering John's room slowly. John was asleep, breathing softly as the heart monitor beeped.

Sherlock made his way over to John's bed, taking a chair and sitting next to him. He didn't want to wake John up, so he sat next to him and entered his mind palace, waiting for John to wake up on his own.

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

John woke up alarmed an hour later, startling Sherlock as he exited his mind palace.

"Oh, Sherlock. Is she okay? Is she alright?"

John felt her still, but wasn't sure if she was completely fine.

"You didn't lose her, John. She's fine, just a bit shaken up." Sherlock reassured him, pulling him into a tight hug. A doctor had came in 30 minutes before John had woken up, explaining to Sherlock that their baby girl was fine, just a bit shaken.

"I should have protected you better." Sherlock muttered against John's grey hair.

"It's not your fault, you know that." John said, hugging his husband back, relieved to feel his own bump between them.

They broke away. "Are you okay?" Sherlock asked. John nodded.

"Fine." He still had an arm wrapped around his stomach.

"There is no way I'm letting you go on any cases." Sherlock retorts.

"Seriously? What am I supposed to do? This didn't even happen on a case!"

Sherlock shrugs, grinning slightly. "I know, but cases are dangerous. I can't risk you getting hurt. You can watch crap telly with Mrs. Hudson."

John rolled his eyes. "It's called 'crap telly' for a reason, Sherlock."

Sherlock laughs a bit before his smile faded. "Seriously, John. I can't have you getting hurt again."

John wraps an arm around Sherlock. "I'll be fine."

"But what if this happens again? John, I've failed you so many times. I don't plan on doing so again."

John stays silent for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Okay." He finally responds. His stomach growls.

"Should I ask the nurse to bring you some food?"

"Yes, please."

Sherlock moves to stand up, stretching before starting towards the door. "Make sure you eat too!" John tells him as he walks out the door.

"Not hungry!" The door closes.

John shakes his head and smiles to himself. "You're always not hungry." he says to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Sherlock BBC.**

 **Chapter 3**

John was about 5 ½ months pregnant. Sherlock was out on a case, but he should be back soon. John was watching the telly, sipping tea. He was in his usual seat, absentmindedly rubbing his stomach. He and Sherlock had went to an ultrasound 2 weeks earlier, and everything was fine.

Sherlock came in a few minutes later, hanging up his coat, giving John a kiss, and flopping on the couch. "Lousy case?" John asks.

"3. I didn't even need to leave the flat. What a waste of time."

John smiled. _Some things never change,_ John thought.

Sherlock headed to the window for his violin, probably trying to think of what to do as he finished his composed piece. John rubbed his stomach again as he set down his cuppa. He arched his back, as it had gone stiff after sitting down for so long.

"You okay, love?" Sherlock asked.

"Just stiffness. Nothing to worry about."

Sherlock set his violin down and came over to his beloved blogger. Kneeling next to him, Sherlock pulled John's jumper up, revealing a noticeable bump. Sherlock kissed his small stretch marks, murmuring under his breath to his daughter, who was only a few layers of skin away. He raised his head, looking up at John, before kissing him too.

"I love you," Sherlock said as he stood.

John smiled. "And I, you."

With the help of Sherlock, John got up and went to the kitchen to out another kettle on. Sherlock just watched him, wondering how he could have ended up with such a perfect man, when John gasped.

"John?" Sherlock asked worriedly. John gripped his stomach a bit tighter, smiling slightly.

"She...She kicked." John said as Sherlock came up behind him. He took Sherlock's hands and pressed them where he had felt his daughter's kicks.

A few moments later, Sherlock felt them too, and he smiled genuinely. He kissed John's blonde-grey hair a couple times before getting a text from Lestrade.

 **Got another case for you. Triple homicide. A bit stuck, would appreciate it if you came down here.-L**

"Who's that?" John asked, hands underneath his protruding stomach to support it.

"Lestrade. He has a case. Seems like a 7."

John watched Sherlock, seeing as the taller man itched to leave the flat and start a case, chuckled a bit. "Go on, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked back at him, unsure. "Are you sure? You might get hurt or something might happen and you-"

"I'll be fine, Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson is here too, she'll keep me company."

Sherlock was silent for a few moments before grinning widely and putting on his coat and scarf. He transitioned from faithful husband and father-to-be to the high functioning sociopath and consulting detective John first fell in love with.

Sherlock kissed John on the lips, lingering a bit before planting another kiss on John's stomach. "I love you both, won't be more than a couple of hours, I promise! Thank you!" Sherlock breathed out quickly before leaving.

John shook his head and smiled as he saw Sherlock hail a cab from the window.

"Your papa is a bit crazy, isn't he?" John muttered to his stomach, moving his thumb in rhythmic circles on top of his bump. "He loves you though, we both do."

With that, John decided to take a shower, easing the pains of his 5 ½ month body.

2 weeks had passed and John was at 6 months exactly. He was laying beside Sherlock, who for once was actually getting some shut eye. Sherlock had a protective hand wrapped around John's ever-growing midsection, which had grown quite a bit in just 2 weeks.

John shifted uncomfortably as his child kicked him, making it impossible to rest any longer.

"Won't you settle down? Just for a bit?" John muttered, but his girl didn't seem to hear as she kicked him in the ribs.

"Soccer practice again?" Sherlock mumbled, rubbing John's sizable bump.

"Seems like it." John replied, sitting up with a bit of difficulty. He checked the time. 2 hours before his ultrasound appointment.

Sherlock sat up and peppered John with kisses while simultaneously keeping his hand on John's abdomen.

"Mm, Sherlock, we have to get ready." John said with a smile, pushing Sherlock away playfully, but not without kissing him on the lips first.

"I'll put a kettle on." Sherlock said as John got up.

"I'm going to shower, be out in a bit." John replied, kissing the detective again before heading to the bathroom.

John laid on the chair, his oversized jumper pulled up above his protruding stomach as the doctor spread the blue gel on his stomach. Sherlock watched the screen with unwavering eyes, like is he removed his gaze the image would disappear.

"There she is! Looking pretty healthy. A bit underweight, but not by much. Try to eat a bit more."

She removes the wand from John's abdomen and hands him a towel to wipe the gel off.

"Here's a new bottle of your prenatal vitamins, and I'll see you two in a couple of weeks." She handed the new bottle to John with a slight smile.

"Thank you." John said, taking Sherlock's hand as they left the hospital.

"Are you hungry? She said you should be eating more-"

"Actually, yes. Starving."

Sherlock smiled. "Angelo's or takeaway?"

John rubbed his stomach subconsciously. "I think she's in the mood for takeaway. Chinese, perhaps?"

Sherlock smirks as he hails a cab for home. He opens the door for John. "Anything for you."

The next day, John was eating his breakfast as Sherlock laid on the couch in a trance. Bored, most likely. He hadn't had a case in 2 weeks. He was trying not to show it, but John noticed his posture and lack of speech.

"Bored, aren't you?"

Sherlock grunted, standing and stepping on and over the coffee table to get to John. John rolls his eyes, smiling at Sherlock's disregard for furniture.

"A bit, yes."

John hums in response, finishing his breakfast and standing with a bit of difficulty to wash his dish.

"I got it, you sit back down." Sherlock says, kissing John's temple and placing his dish in the sink to be washed.

"Thank you, love." John replies, moving from his chair to the couch because it was hard to get comfortable in his hard chair.

Sherlock sat on the other side of the couch, pulling John so that he laid on his lap, rubbing circles on John's stomach.

John sighed in relief as Sherlock rubbed the tension out of John's stomach muscles.

"Mmm, she still needs a name." John said, placing his hands above Sherlock's.

"Krysten?"

"Sarah?"

"Sage?"

"Rose?"

"Annabeth?"

"Hazel?"

"Hazel. I like Hazel." John says finally as Sherlock listed names he had thought of.

"Do you have a second name picked out?"

John thought for a moment. "Una. Hazel Una Watson-Holmes."

Sherlock leaned down, kissing John, lingering slightly. "Perfect."

John broke away, smiling. He placed a hand on top of his stomach. "We're almost ready to meet you, Hazel."

John looked up at Sherlock.

"I love you."

Sherlock smiles. "I love you too."

Sherlock and John walked into their flat, Sherlock carrying the heaviest things and John the more lighter ones. They had realized they really had nothing for the baby and went out to buy things.

They were using John's old room as the nursery, already painted with a subtle yellow and white background. They had bought a white crib, a rocking chair, some clothing, nappies, and other baby necessities.

Sherlock set the bags down as his phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his trench coat, he read the message.

 **Need your help. Double murder. I think you would like this one-L**

Sherlock smiled.

"A case?" John asked, hooking his arm around Sherlock.

"Yep. Double murder." He looked down at John with pleading eyes.

John kissed him on the lips. "Go. You know I would never take a good case away from you unless it was necessary." he said with a slight smile.

Sherlock kissed John passionately, almost toppling him over. "Thank you! Be back before you know it!"

Sherlock was almost giddy with happiness as he grabbed his coat and scarf. "Love you!" he yelled as he dashed down the stairs.

"Love you too!"

He heard the door close and John smiled to himself. He went up to the nursery, admiring the amazing job Sherlock had done, recalling the hours he spent on it.

 _John was only around 3 months at the time, about 2 days after he had told Sherlock. He had just come home from a day at work to the smell of paint._

" _Sherlock?" he called._

" _Up here!" Sherlock called from his old bedroom._

 _John made his way up the stairs and was blessed with the sight of Sherlock, yellow paint covering his grey sweatpants and his white shirt, flecks of white paint in his floofy hair and on his face as he painted the walls of the nursery._

" _Sherlock?" John asked, astonished._

 _Sherlock steps down from the ladder he was on and smiled down at John. "The nursery. I know we don't know it's gender yet, so I went with a neutral color. Sunset yellow is nice, right?"_

 _John smashed his lips onto Sherlock's, his heart swelling with love for the consulting detective. As he broke away, John placed Sherlock's hand on his stomach. "It's beautiful, Sherlock. You don't know how much I love you."_

" _And I, you." Sherlock said as he smiled again, kissing John's forehead and stomach before climbing back on the ladder to finish._

John smiled at the memory. He knew Sherlock loved their little Hazel, and it was only a matter of months before they finally met her.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Sherlock BBC.**

 **Chapter 4**

John was 8 months along, and he felt gigantic. He couldn't get up on his own anymore, and couldn't stand for more than 5 minutes without his ankles and feet throbbing. He had barely left the flat, even for groceries. Sherlock hadn't wanted him to.

John now laid on the couch, on his side, watching telly while Mrs. Hudson made them some tea. She had been with John all day, as Sherlock was out at the mortuary collecting body parts for his newest experiment. Earlier, John had banned all experiments from 221b to 221c, the flat below them.

He flipped to Doctor Who, one of Mrs. Hudson and his' favorites when they watch telly together. Mrs. Hudson came in with the tea, handing it to John and pouring one for herself as she settled in John's chair to watch.

"Are you okay, dear?" She asked before she turned her attention to the screen.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson, thank you." John replied as he sipped his tea and rubbed his stomach. Hazel, their little girl, was pushing against John's ribs at the moment, making it hard to get comfortable.

They sat and watched recent Doctor Who episodes in comfortable silence, making small talk in between commercials.

Mrs. Hudson left for Tesco's 5 minutes before Sherlock returned with a jar of skin-yes, just squares of skin-for his newest experiment. He took off his coat and then went to put the jar downstairs as John, still in the same position on the couch, rolled his eyes.

Once Sherlock came back, he kissed John tenderly.

"Hello to you too." John said after they broke apart.

He smiled before his breath hitched and he gripped the edge of the sofa.

Sherlock turned, wide-eyed. "John? Are you okay?"

John nodded, exhaling as the pain passed. "Braxton-Hicks. Pain in the arse, but I'll manage."

"Do you want to lie down?"

"That would be nice, yes."

Sherlock grabbed hold of John's arm and helped him up by his waist, then scooping him up bridal style and carrying him to their room, where he laid John on his side of the bed.

"I could've walked, but thank you."

"Don't mention it." Sherlock replied with a smirk. "Rest-I'll be in 221c."

John nods and kisses Sherlock before drifting off, exhausted.

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

John woke up irritated. He had only fell asleep in the mid-morning, and now it was mid afternoon. Sherlock was laying next to him, typing away on his phone. Most likely for a case. He tried to get up by himself, failing miserably. Sherlock noticed this and got up to help John.

"You okay?" Sherlock asked.

"Just as big as a blimp and slowly losing my ability to function properly." John retorted.

Sherlock, a bit surprised, wrapped John in a hug. John sighed into his chest. "Why does this have to be so bloody hard?" John asked as his mood shifted.

"I don't know. If I could, I would transfer your pain to me. But it's only a few months now, then we'll have our Hazel."

John nodded, breaking away from Sherlock. "Sorry about that."

Sherlock offers a small smile. "It's quite alright. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, unsurprisingly."

"What are you in the mood for?"

John thought for a minute. "Greek sounds nice."

Sherlock looked back at John. "You hate Greek."

John smiled as he rubbed his impressive bump. "She seems to fancy it."

Sherlock smiled as he flipped his phone out to make the order. John waddled his way to the sofa, collapsing in it. Sherlock finished the call and sat in his chair, taking out a book on analytical chemistry, possibly for fun.

John picked up the book nearest to him, _The Hobbit_ , and sat comfortably with his husband in a content silence.

They read contently, before John felt another sharp pain in his abdomen, grasping his stomach. Sherlock dropped the book immediately. "John?"

"I'm fine, still just Braxton-Hicks. I'm going to lay down for a bit, okay?" John reassured him, grazing his hand against Sherlock's cheek.

"I'll help you."

With that, Sherlock picked John up bridal style and carried him to their room, laying him on their bed.

"I thought you were doing to help me, not carry me." John said with a slight smile.

"I was helping you by carrying you." Sherlock winked, kissing John on the forehead. "Rest. The food will be here in approximately 1 hour and 13 minutes."

"I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you too."

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bcc**

John and Sherlock were eating their takeaway, watching crap telly. John laid in Sherlock's lap, stroking his large stomach as he ate. Sherlock, as usual, didn't eat much of his gyro, but instead watched his husband. John always looked beautiful to him, but he was even more beautiful pregnant to Sherlock.

John noticed Sherlock staring at him as he set his empty plate down. "Sherlock?" John looked up at the consulting detective.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

John scoffed. "I'm 8 months pregnant, covered in stretch marks and excess fat. What's beautiful about that?"

"Everything."

John blushed as Sherlock kissed him on the lips. Returning the kiss, the blogger reached his hand up towards Sherlock's face, pulling him down, deepening the kiss. Sherlock pulled away a few moments later away, resting his hand on John's bulging stomach. "Only a month left, maybe less."

John sighed. "Good. I'm tired of the swollen ankles and sore back."

Sherlock chuckled a bit. "It'll be worth it when we hold our Hazel in our arms."

John nodded into Sherlock's chest. "Yes it will be.

 **This chapter is shit, but I didn't want to skip from 6 months to 9, i thought there should be something in between. Hopefully this isn't too bad.**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Sherlock BBC.**

 **Chapter 5**

John was in bed with Sherlock, who was not sleep but locked in his mind palace, thinking. Hazel had just woken him up, kicking him in the kidneys hard. His due date had passed 3 weeks ago, and John was fed up. Both he and Sherlock decided to have a home birth, as getting to the hospital would be a bit of a hassle with Sherlock's social status, and John didn't want to be bothered.

 _This baby sure has Sherlock's timing._ John thought with a smile. Sherlock was 3 weeks late, according to Mycroft when he had come over earlier in the pregnancy.

"Sherlock?" John said aloud to the taller man beside him. Sherlock snapped his eyes open, then turned to look at John.

"Yes, love?"

John blushed a deep red. "Um, I can't get up. Can you help me up so I can shower?"

Sherlock chuckled a bit as John threw his pillow at him playfully. He swung his legs off the bed and walked to John's side, pulling him up by his arm and back so he could stand.

"Thanks, love." John kissed him on the cheek before waddling to the bathroom.

As the hot water his his skin, he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, causing him to wince. The pain was worse than the Braxton-Hicks. As he got out, he felt the pain again, but worse. He gripped the edge of the sink, waiting for the pain to subside. He put on a pair of stretchy black jeans and a oversized t-shirt.

He tried to make his way to Sherlock before another contraction hit him and he doubled over. "SHERLOCK!" He screamed, gripping his stomach.

Sherlock practically fell off their bed as he ran to John. He saw him crunched over, holding his stomach. "It's time?" Sherlock asked, already knowing the answer.

John glared at him. "What do you th-OW! Fuck!"

Sherlock hurried to pick him up, setting him against the foot of the couch.

The contraction ended, and John sighed in relief as Sherlock hurried around, gathering towels and pillows. He set 2 pillows behind John and one under his legs, removing his trousers and pants, then setting a towel over the lower half of his body. "Is that okay?" Sherlock asked. John nodded.

As another contraction started John gritted his teeth and gripped Sherlock's arm. Sherlock timed it on his watch. It ended fairly quickly and John unclenched his teeth.

"It seems the labor is moving slowly." Sherlock said as he looked at his watch. "Do you want to walk around to see if she can move down a bit lower?"

John nodded and Sherlock helped him up and held his arm as John walked the perimeter of the flat, stopping periodically when a contraction hit him.

"60 seconds, five minutes apart now. You're getting close." Sherlock explains. John nods as he lowers himself back down to the floor, breathing heavily. Pressure was building as the contractions got closer, and John was starting to tire out.

"You're almost ready, love. Just a bit longer." Sherlock said, trying to comfort his laboring husband as much as possible.

 **bbc/bbc/bbc/bbc**

3 hours later, John's water had finally broke and he was starting to push.

Sherlock had underestimated exactly how _strong_ the ex-soldier was, as John kept an iron grip on Sherlock's hand as he pushed. "Oh god!" John exclaimed as he bore dow, face flushed in exertion.

"Alright John, the baby's crowning. Push."

"I _am!_ It feels like I'm being torn in half!" John pressed his chin to his chest as he pushed once more. He felt some of his child's head extend out of his body.

"John! There's the head, keep going!"

John was exhausted. His sandy blonde hair stuck to his sticky-with-sweat forehead.

"It hurts, Sherlock. I can't-"

Sherlock squeezed John's hand tightly. "Yes you can, John. Hazel needs you."

John, mustering up all the energy he had left, pushed with what was left with the contraction. A scream ebbed it's way up his throat, and he felt the rest of the head push itself out.

"Good job, John. Here's the hardest part-the shoulders."

John pushed again, gripping Sherlock's hand like his life depended on it. He couldn't feel the baby move.

"Sherlock," John called. "She isn't-she isn't moving."

Sherlock let go of John's hand and looked to see what the matter was.

"Alright, I have to inch her out a bit more. Don't push or she might turn, making it harder."

"Don't push?!" John practically yelled. The pressure was unbearable and all of his instincts were telling him to end it.

"John, don't push."

John gripped one of the ends of a pillow as Sherlock tried to pull the baby somewhat out. The pain and the pressure was making John feel faint, as black dots danced at the edge of his eyes.

"Alright John, one big push."

John bore down as best as he could, yelling in pain as the shoulders came out. Sherlock was unable to hide his smile as he knew he would meet his child in a matter of minutes.

"One more, John, and she'll be here."

With the last bit of energy he had, John pushed the rest of his daughter out and he fell against the couch, exhausted.

"John…" Sherlock called as tears poured out of his eyes. His _daughter_. His daughter, whom he shared with his beautiful husband, was here. "She's beautiful."

"Give...her here, Sherlock. Please…" John asked stiffly. He was still sore from giving birth.

Sherlock handed him Hazel then went to dispose of the afterbirth and things, while getting John some fresh clothes and Hazel a onesie and a nappy.

"Hazel…" John cooed at his newborn daughter, who looked up at him with her fascinating blue eyes, much like Sherlock's. She had both of their best features. She had John's blonde hair, but with Sherlock's curls. Sherlock's eyes but John's lips. Best of all, Sherlock's cheekbones. "It's your daddy. You're so beautiful. Your papa and I love you very much, yeah?"

Hazel gurgled in response, causing John to chuckle before wincing in pain. He was still sore. Sherlock had come back in, watching his husband and their daughter start to bond. "Are you tired?" He finally asked, kneeling down next to John.

"Exhausted. Several hours of labor can really get to you."

Sherlock laughed. John smiled before handing Hazel to the detective. Hazel began to whine, just on the verge of crying. "Someone's hungry." Sherlock said, going to get formula from the kitchen.

John watched as Sherlock cuddled their daughter, his heart swelling in love for the consulting detective. After her feeding, Hazel fell asleep in her papa's arms, and Sherlock went to lay her down in her crib. When he came back, he helped John clean himself up and threw the bloody towels and pillows in the hamper to be washed later. John was still very sore, so Sherlock carried him up to their bedroom. When he laid John down, before he could go to his side of the bed, John pulled him down into a hungry kiss. Sherlock immediately kissed back, running his hand through John's hair. As John tried to deepen the kiss, he winced and yelped slightly in pain. Sherlock let go immediately, eyes confused and full of worry.

"I'm fine, Sherlock. Just sore." John reassured him. He patted Sherlock's side of the bed, telling him to lay down. Sherlock did so, and John rested his hand on Sherlock's chest.

"Sleep, John. You deserve it. You did great." Sherlock said, kissing John's temple.

"You did too." John said sleepily. "I love you, Sh'lock."

Sherlock grinned. "And I, you, my dear Watson. I always will."

 **And that's it! I will possibly be doing a sequel of this after I finish another story of mine, so look forward to that. Thank you for reading!**


End file.
